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jaggedhorseteeth · 1 month

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Better in the Morning // Ch. 2

MASTERLIST

word count: 2700

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drinking, language, arguing, insults, mentions of violence, mentions of sex, drunk creeps harassing women in bars

Over the course of the next few months, Jake and I grew closer than I ever imagined we would. We had our separate lives, giving each other plenty of space so as to not smother ourselves, but lately we had been spending more and more time together. He was attentive- we talked daily, and I was getting used to the ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ texts. Since coming to Tennessee, I hadn’t had much time to explore but he remedied that, and we experienced what Nashville had to offer together.

It felt as though we never ran out of things to talk about, and we were constantly learning new things about each other. I loved that we never let the banter die down; having fun with him, joking around, pushing each other’s buttons, it all came naturally. His laughter made me feel like I was home.

Oh, he was always a perfect gentleman, careful not to overstep any boundaries, but when the time came (pretty early on if I’m being honest), the sex was phenomenal. It was full of fire and passion, and usually ended with us both so fucked out we couldn’t form actual sentences. There was a perfect balance of sensuality and roughness, being given and received on both ends. I was more than happy to let him take control, to exert that dominance that made my knees tremble and lit a fire in my gut. But being with him, exploring each other, made me realize that occasionally, I quite enjoyed reversing those roles. More than once he got on his knees and begged me to give him release. And damn, he sure was pretty like that.

The first time he brought me around to meet his brothers, there was almost an immediate connection. I really enjoyed their company and for the most part, they treated me like I had been a part of the group forever. Josh was slightly standoffish at first, but he was always kind. His personality was so different from Jake’s, but the unmistakable link between them was surreal. Sam was a goofball, always making everyone laugh. I pretended I didn’t notice the way he watched Daniel like he was the most precious person on the planet.

Even Richie was starting to warm up to Jake. I was thankful they, at the very least, had one thing in common when they could bond over guitars. The occasional grumble from Richie when Jake would flirt in front of him became less threatening, and more of something we would laugh about later.

Jake was able to witness my excitement firsthand when Richie and I finished restoring the Gretsch. He was just as fascinated when I opened the case, now cleaned and restored as well, to show it off. I watched his eyes light up at the sight of it.

The 1957 6-string electric guitar had all new hardware, including two single-coil pickups and a Bigsby vibrato tailpiece. Jake examined the wood, astonished at how smooth it all looked, like it was brand new. “It’s got a chambered mahogany body and neck, a maple top, and the fretboard is rosewood,” Richie explained, clearly proud of our work. I was especially proud of the finish, in a dark Cadillac green. Jake carefully ran his fingers along the neck, examining all the details like he was trying to memorize it. Judging from the way he looked at it, I’d bet if it didn’t already have a buyer, he would have been first in line.

With how smoothly everything was going, it figured that we would hit a road bump soon. And we did, when we had our first actual argument.

We were at a local bar with the guys, having a good time drinking and chatting, and generally shooting the shit. I made my way to the bar for another drink, Jake absorbed in conversation with Daniel. While I waited for my drink, I felt the approach of the stranger before I saw him. I didn’t turn to look at him until he spoke.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing buying her own drinks? Your man not taking good enough care of you?”

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. First chance to take the hint and back off, buddy.

“C’mon, don’t be like that, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink, and later I can show you how a real man oughta treat you.”

“I’m not interested. Beat it.” Second chance.

He closed the distance between us until I could feel and smell his disgusting breath on me. Give me just one reason, please. I was preparing to defend myself if it came down to it, as I’d unfortunately done many times before. There was never any fear, just annoyance at this guy’s utter audacity. If there was one thing that I was thankful for from my father, was his insistence on me learning how to fight.

I heard the man chuckle as he took his third and final chance before I got to the part about kicking his ass. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I think you-“

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Everything happened so fast, I barely had time to register Jake forcing himself in between myself and the stranger and shoving the man backwards. “Back the fuck off, asshole.”

The guy shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble. “Fucking crazy,” he mumbled, disappearing into a group of patrons. I can’t say I wasn’t grateful; I had never seen Jake fight so I wasn’t sure how things would have gone on that front if that man decided to fight back. But I sure was livid.

Jake turned to me. “Are you oka-“

“What the fuck was that?”

The confusion on his face was clear but did nothing to quell my own irritation.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Jacob. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious? Pardon me for trying to protect my girlfriend-“

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” I’m sure we had turned a few heads by then. I let out an exasperated sigh and marched past him, towards the exit. He followed closely, continuously trying to argue his point.

“That creep was fucking harassing you.”

“There will always be creeps in bars harassing me! I had it under control.”

“Yeah? And what if he got physical with you? Got violent? Then what? I was just supposed to let him hurt you?” He was still hot on my heels when we made it outside, the cool air a welcome change from the stuffy bar.

“Then I’d get violent right back. I know how to protect myself; I don’t need a man to do it for me!” I’m sure I was yelling at this point, but I couldn’t be bothered to care.

“You really think you’d be able to fend off someone that’s twice your size?”

“I’ve done it before! I’m not a fucking damsel in distress, Jake. I wasn’t raised like that. I’m not afraid of some pathetic, drunk asshole who isn’t even capable of walking straight!”

“Well maybe you should be! I get that you want to play the ‘I’m a badass and don’t need help’ card, but you don’t have to be stupid and reckless!”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m stupid and reckless because I didn’t come crying to my boyfriend to save me from the mean ole’ frat boy trying to buy me a drink? I’m not the one that was trying to start a fight in a crowded bar. How do I know you wouldn’t have gotten your ass kicked?”

“I was trying to help you; don’t you see that? But fine, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself for trying to be chivalrous!”

“What you’re being is a pain in the ass.” I’ll be the first to admit I was stubborn as a mule often, when the situation called for it, but I could recognize when it was time to walk away. We were both heated for our own reasons, and I didn’t see anything happening other than the situation escalating. I was seeing red, and the more he talked the worse it got. “I’m gonna go.”

“No, Kya, wait-“ He made like he was going to reach out and touch me. Sighing, I put my hands up and stepped back.

“Jake, right now I need some space, and we both need to cool off. Go back inside, enjoy the rest of your night. We can talk tomorrow.”

He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration, but he didn’t argue. He had a dejected look on his face that tugged on my heartstrings. I wasn’t enjoying this, and I hated making him feel bad, but needed to understand this about me if we were going to make our relationship work. I refused to let anyone walk all over me, whether it be a stranger or my own boyfriend. I was sure we would talk later, and I could nip the issue in the bud and hope we could move past it.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered sadly as I walked away from the man I definitely did not want to walk away from.

I still wasn’t feeling good about the whole incident when I walked into the shop early the next morning. I should have known Richie would notice right off the bat.

“Why do you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios? Do I need to kill someone?”

I sighed. “I’m fine. Jake and I got into an argument last night, is all.”

He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes back and forth like he was thinking. “So, I can kill him? ‘Cause I gladly-“

“Shut up,” I chuckled. “You’re not killing anyone. I’m sure we’ll talk it out later.”

“Ugh, fine. You wanna talk about it?”

Throughout my life, I could always rely on Richie to have my back for almost everything. He was the parent that I did have, the one I could open up to without fear of judgement or being brushed off. So I explained what had transpired and what was said during the argument, how I chose to distance myself, and how shitty it made me feel to walk away from Jake.

“Ah, shit. You love that fucker, don’t you?”

I groaned at his forward, but very true, assumption, bringing my head down to meet my arm on the counter. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably?”

He patted my shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He just made me so mad last night!”

“And I’m sure it won’t be the last time. Hell, you’re bound to piss him off plenty, too. Doesn’t mean it ain’t right. It’ll be hard sometimes but you’re tough, and if you love him, you’ll work through it.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“Ha, I’ve always been wise, young grasshopper. Now, listen up.” He lowered his voice, putting on a more serious tone. “You’ve always been bullheaded. You’re the most stubborn but one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through some shit that toughened you up and made you into who you are now. The world you were brought up in, you needed to be tough to survive. That’s why your dad and I made sure you could protect yourself and taught you push back fear. And it’s great; it means I don’t really have to worry about you. Now, I don’t know him all that well, but I think it’s safe to assume Jacob didn’t grow up in a world like that. If I had to guess, he probably has a mom who raised him right, and raised him to be a man who, drumroll please, protects his woman. I know you ain’t used to that, but I bet he ain’t used to having a woman he doesn’t need to protect. He intervened ‘cause he cares about you.”

He was right. I knew that. I felt like such an asshole. I treated Jake badly and he didn’t deserve that. “This is where you tell me that I’ve got to learn to compromise, huh?”

“Let him take care of you, Kya.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Jake <3 – 8:13 AM

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Can we talk?

I’m sorry, too. I can come over after work. If you’ll have me.

Jake <3 – 8:15 AM

Of course. I’ll make dinner.

I smiled at his offer. He was still willing to go out of his way and put forth an effort, even after our argument. It made me feel better and gave me a little hope that I hadn’t completely fucked everything up.

It was about 6:30 PM by the time I pulled into his driveway. I swallowed my nerves, walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Why the hell am I even nervous?

It didn’t take him long to answer, greeting me with that sweet smile of his. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a few stray hairs peeking out, and he had a dish towel draped over his shoulder. “Hey.” He stepped to the side, allowing me to cross the threshold, and shut the door behind me.

“It smells really good in here.” He demonstrated early in our relationship that he was an excellent cook, and he really enjoyed it. He always jumped at an opportunity to cook for other people. I wondered if it would have been his calling if not for the music.

He grinned. “Thanks. It’s Bolognese. Uh, it’s got to simmer for another ten or fifteen minutes, but it’ll be ready soon. Do you… want a drink? You know, since you never got the one you ordered at the bar last night?”

I furrowed my brow. “Shit, you’re right. I forgot about that drink.” I noticed him fidgeting with his fingers, picking at the cuticles. He’s nervous, too. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pulled him to me so I could plant a kiss on his lips. “I’ll take you up on that drink. Surprise me.” I smiled sweetly at him, the interaction seeming to calm both our nerves.

He brought me a glass of Amaretto on ice. “My favorite. Suck up.”

Laughing, he retorted, “Babe, I’ll gladly suck up to you however I can, whenever you want me to.”

“I’m not complaining.” Rubbing my thumb across the glass, I averted my gaze to my lap. “I’m sorry about last night, Jake. I know you had good intentions, and I overreacted. I don’t want to make excuses, it’s just not something I’ve had a lot of experience with, someone standing up for me like that. I had to learn how to fend for myself when I was really young. It’s not an easy mindset to break. But it doesn’t give me the right to act like a bitch.”

Jake leaned back on the couch and tilted his head back. “If I’m being honest, I think I was jealous.” He drew in a deep breath. “I saw that guy practically breathing down your neck and it pissed me the fuck off. He had no right to be that close to my girl, you know? But you were right, you had it under control. I shouldn’t have gotten involved like that. And I don’t think you’re stupid or reckless. That was really shitty of me to say. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Finishing off my drink, I placed the glass on the table and leaned into him. His arm landed across my shoulders, and I rested my head on his chest. “Of course I forgive you. I hope you can forgive me, too. I just need you to trust me, let me do my thing. If you can promise me that you’ll try, I promise to try to let you do your thing, too. To let you take care of me.”

He pulled me into a tight hug and kissed the top of my head. “I can definitely do that.” The beeping of a kitchen timer rang through the room. “C’mon, baby, let’s eat.”

#gvf #jake gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #josh kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #josh gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

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I can see Hanayama pulling a yandere simulator type shit on S/O if they went to high school together, since he has the same class with S/o they often talk to eachother and then he would later track down they’re locker to leave ,Gifts in it and making sure they don’t know who it was, making sure people who have interest in them back off, Ect and then when s/o is upset they have trouble having relationships they end up crying in Hanayamas shoulder which was his Plan all along

I love your little mind. Imagine he’s been doing this since high school and it transfers into adulthood? He’s just your super reliable friend.and Hanayama is scared to tell you about his overwhelming feelings because he doesn’t want to lose you… but his fantasies are getting worse.

But I think adult Hanayama would do this too. He’d eliminate all the competition. He’d make your mean coworkers or a random stranger who harassed you go missing, he’d make sure you got every promotion by threatening your boss, he’d squash anyone who flirted with you by getting them fired, and eventually he buys your company so he can be your boss instead.

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jeffgerstmann · 8 months

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You think it's credible that Triple H didn't read the Vince lawsuit? I could see a few days before the Rumble, him not wanting to read through a bunch of pages detailing how his father in law spent years psychologically tormenting and passing around a company employee like a toy.

Out of all the Kliq guys, he was always the dude who didn't mess around with any of the crazy shit, so I could buy the idea he never knew about it.

I think it's unfair to compare it to the Jericho thing, because in that case it was likely a matter between a few people and their lawyers versus what may end up being a criminal conspiracy that could even result in jail time by the end.

Sure. He's not a lawyer, it's not his department, and they hadn't even officially been served with the lawsuit yet. He probably heard a rough summary of what was in it as part of some kind of emergency meeting and then I bet everyone else in the loop on that stuff tried to leave him alone because he had a show to produce. I wouldn't be surprised if he had to meet with talent individually or as a group to discuss what had happened and to allow talent to air concerns, that would just be the right thing to do, I'd think. Dunno.

He and the talent scheduled for the post-show conference probably also had to meet with PR to discuss strategy and responses for what to say when the subject came up. I can't imagine what he said is actually what they discussed, his response was bad.

Obviously he's in the loop on the general shape of the lawsuit. And he'd be in the loop on the ad stuff because all that Slim Jim shit dropping out would mean the show would need slight adjustments to remove those segments. And, if the word going around about Brock supposedly being cut from the Rumble at the last minute is actually true, he'd have to get heads together to rework part of that match to account for the change. Who knows, maybe he had to sit in on a couple of quick high-level meetings to discuss getting Vince out, though considering that was announced during Smackdown, he may have been focused on the show and that just happened above his head. That's probably a board decision that happens above his paygrade.

Either way, I find it totally plausible that he hadn't actually read the lawsuit. I still think his comments on it were bad.

I think it would be hard to work at that company for as long as he has without knowing that Vince was up to some shit. I'd guess he was kept out of the loop on the specific brutality involved and, at most, it was "ugh, Vince's mistress is on the payroll" or something less-fucked-sounding-but-actually-still-fucked like that. If this actually goes to trial there will probably be tons of emails, texts, calls, and other info about who knew what and when did they know it that will make the company look like a fucking cesspool. Depending on how far that goes, I wouldn't be surprised to see a ton of long-time employees getting swept the fuck out of there, since the liability of having people in senior and/or executive positions knowing about this but turning a blind eye to it is, as I understand it, very substantial.

All the management-focused sexual harassment training I've taken over the years focused a lot on the idea that if you, as a manager and leader, know about a harassment situation and don't report it, you may find yourself held personally liable in any resulting court case against the company. So maybe we end up with more than just Laurinitis getting sued if things progress.

On top of that, there are more people out there and more stories that haven't been told, either due to NDAs or due to talent feeling like they'd never work again if they spoke up. If and when this case successfully nullifies that NDA, I think the dam breaks and we start hearing a lot more about other women in similar positions over the years.

If that happens, I wouldn't be shocked if HHH was gone as a part of that sweep. Certainly old-school guys like Hayes and Prichard would probably get shown the door if this keeps escalating, along with a handful of behind-the-scenes names that we never really hear about.

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kimtaegis · 3 months

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It's incredibly disappointing seeing that KBS post but if I can be honest, it was only a matter of time before they realised kpop fans have no spine and they can sell anything to them as long as it involved their idols. There are a lot of amazing and smart kpop fans who see through this bullshit and have been calling out companies for years and not just for this, so I'm not saying everyone is like this. It's not! But the sad thing is that the majority are. And I feel like especially in the recent years, the focus shifted towards charting and achieving high numbers and breaking or making up records just so they can spit on other artists rather than supporting the music and calling out if something is wrong. And now we are harassing people who don't buy into the blind support and who can call out the companies for doing bad things... They get harassed, they company gets away with literally anything and the fans don't care. It's sad. And it's not just regarding Palestine, it's the same with the environmental damage that's caused by the large amount of album producing, it's the same with AI, NFTs, mistreatment and I could go on and on. It's really sad... But as long as the kpop fandoms as a whole (which is millions of people) don't take a stand, nothing will happen. These companies will not care about problems if they have money flowing in.

I’m not sure what specific kbs post you’re referring to (the kpop festival thing?) but either way I agree 100% with you. the list of simply evil things going on both in the industry and the fandom spaces is endless and it will forever baffle me what happens with most people’s consciousness and common sense once they create their little stan account on twitter. it’s unbelievable how genuinely immoral and straight up nasty they can get. I mean a lot of them aren’t even just ignoring all the current events but deliberately choose to be loud and proud about their wrong ass stance on things. I don’t know where these people get their egos from but there sure is enough empty space in their brains to put it in. and yeah just as you said it’s especially upsetting that those with morals, principles and horizons that go beyond their own nose get shit for it. like what even has this world turned into where one saying that helping families who are at risk of being slaughtered is more important than some $70 bad quality merch or an inorganic, (genuinely to your life meaningless!!!!) number on a list on your phone gets you doxxed and called the most horrible slurs you can imagine. that sentence was long as hell but yeah. selfishness, privilege and intentional ignorance really know no limits anymore

#and I fear nothing will ever improve. I wish I would have any hope for that but it’s just not the case #anon #annie’s mail #long post

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #ellesgreenawaybookclub

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eldritch-bf · 3 years

Text

I was trying to Google “what food do rich only rich people eat” (because of a convo I was having with my brother) and got a stupid quora question result “what food do rich people eat they are always skinny”

And surprisingly people actually acknowledged rich people having enough money to pay for cosmetic surgeries like liposuction and also expensive trainers

But one person was like “rich people are rich because they have self discipline which means they also don’t indulge in junk food” no the majority of rich people are not rich because they are penny pinchers or whatever stupid bullshit they’re rich because they were born rich because great great great great grand dad owned 2,000 slaves or stole land from indigenous peoples or taxed the shit out of poor tenant farmers or participated in business racketeering and vertical integration and their family has had money to invest and keep growing their wealth and purchase companies other people built ever since.

the American entrepreneur is rarely a poor immigrant who has a Good Idea and works hard. it’s almost always wealth acquired through unethical means. god damn even thomas edison stole, sued, harassed, and maybe even killed his own research assistant’s or competitor’s inventions and he’s supposed to be the American ideal from the gilded age, the shining star amongst the corruption.

rich people are not cut from a finer cloth than poor people or whatever. rich people: don’t have to deal with food deserts, can shop at fancy grocery stores, afford cooking lessons OR higher other people to cook for them, afford personal trainers, have the leisure and resources to dive deep into recreational sports like tennis or kayaking, easier to seek treatment for mental illnesses that cause overeating or disordered eating, get liposuction, have their stomachs stapled, hell even get some weight loss medication, or can get scripts to abuse prescription meds for their side effects of appetite suppression or weight loss, and most importantly, they can afford to buy healthy foods.

i literally do not buy vegetables or raw meat anymore because I do not eat them fast enough OR know how cook them consistently (I’m always afraid of undercooking meat so I overcook it until it’s basically burned and hard). Now I only buy lunch meat and frozen chicken nuggets. I buy my groceries at target. It’s cheap, I get a discount, I buy the generic versions of food items, AND it’s easier to shop lift food items from. also I work a physical labor job. When I come home at 8 pm I don’t have the energy to cook much of anything so I’m making a frozen dinner or eating left over pasta, which I cook often two boxes of at a time specifically so I can have leftovers for the whole week. And I am fat. I have too surgery in a month and I hit a few hospital’s BMI ceiling so I have to be seen at xyz hospital.

the quora post also made the assumption that skinny = healthy which is not the case. one of my cousins teeters the line between healthy and underweight. I shared a kitchen with her for 6 months. that woman puts lite beer and weed into her body and that’s it. all I picture when I imagine skinny rich man is Ryan Howard on the office during his cocaine addiction. yes Martha you’re skinny but it’s LITERALLY the diet of Vodka and Klonopin.

tl;dr yeah, poor people are often fatter and rich people are often skinny but it has nothing to do with a personality defect in poor people lacking self control and has everything to do with lack of access to resources for a healthy lifestyle. this is to say nothing about how this all contributes to a shorter life expectancy for poor people.

#anti capitalism #anarcho communism #leftism #capitalism #gilded age #the gilded age #also just because rich people are skinny doesn’t mean they’re healthy or any skinny people #I’m worried r*cism is one of the banned tags

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king-there0f · 3 years

Note

🌾....

Gonna answer this for Asphrea cuz I never talk about them lol

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

warnings for implied manipulation and some mention of violence. Asphrea is not a Nice Person. They will bait you into doing their dirty work for them and will flirt with you until they have what they need from you and then ghost you and leave without a trace.

For that reason this one is under a readmore, just in case that doesn’t sit well with ya:

I met them by chance on a trade route into town. Complete coincidence. They were just walking along the side of the road, you should have seen how graceful - just, wow so beautiful. Anyway, they asked me for a ride into town. How could I say no? They were cautiously chatty - understandable cuz I was a complete stranger and all, but they were just so damn charming. Carried themself with a real poise and grace, ya know? Hard to imagine a Sylvari being royalty but they really had me sold on the idea. Their clothes were all velvets and silks in rich purples and golds and-- Anyway, I get them into town no trouble, drop them off. They tried to give me a small sum of gold for my trouble but I refused! Their company was payment enough. They left me with a wink and blew a kiss over their shoulder and I tell you, I’ve never been more smitten.

I’ve seen them around town a few times since then. Even had the honor of spending some time in their company a handful of times. They really are just so charming. Sweet to. Always offering to connect me with their friends in high places - put in a good word for me, ya know? Work can be hard to come by these days. But they never ask me for nothing - always sayin’ spending time with me is enough. I’ve helped ‘em with the occasional problem though, I’m no slouch. I just feel honored that they feel comfortable talking to me about their problems at all. Must be hard to open up like that. So sometimes I take care of stuff for them when it’s upsetting ‘em.

Like, this one time they seemed just so put out by this one guy - been messing with them or something, giving them just a real hard time, and for what? Something about being wrongly accused of smuggling or stealing or some shit. Some Seraph asshole by the sound of it. Gettin’ a big head even though he’s posted way out here in this tiny dump of a town instead of in the big city. Anyway, apparently he’s been giving them some trouble. Harassing and the like. What a brute. They’d never steal anything, look at ‘em! You think someone who wears clothes like that is wanting for cash? Hell, they offered me money for the puny little ride I gave them into town. Ridiculous is what it is. I tell you what , I gave that guy a real piece of my mind. Really gave him the what-for. Don’t think he’ll be around to bother them anymore, at least not for a while anyway, hah!

They were so shocked when I told them, but I think they were impressed cuz they put a hand on my arm when they asked me if I was hurt. Said it was mighty brave of me to do what I did. Thought they wished I wouldn’t resort to such violence. I thought my heart was gonna leap into my throat, I’ve never blushed so hard in all my life. and for what, a little touch on the arm? I tell you what, must be getting soft. I thought about it for the rest of the day, just, over and over. That little touch, the soft smile, the kiss they blew me when we parted ways. It’s like I’m a lovestruck kid again, I tell ya.

I’ve been saving up to buy them this fancy necklace - I was gonna finally ask ‘em out you see - spent a pretty penny on it. But I wanted them to like it and I know they have expensive taste. But I gotta tell you though, I’ve been getting worried. I haven’t seen them in days and I’m a little afraid they might have started having trouble again. Do you think they’re okay? I’m sure it’s nothing, I know I’ve gotta respect their time. But. I just want to see them so badly. I’d just about give my right arm for them to say yes - don’t give me that look it’s just a turn of phrase. But honestly they’re worth it. They are everything to me. I’d do just about anything for them, and they know it. Whenever they come back, and they will. I’ll be here for them, waiting.

#Guild Wars 2 #gw2 #oc ask game #asksksksk #original character #asphrea #sylvari #i am not a writer lol

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Miss Piggy

Summary: You are head over heels for your elder brother’s best friend – sadly he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings.

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Rogers!Reader, Steve x Sister!Reader, Sam Wilson, Brock Rumlow, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Carol Danvers, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, language, Bucky being a douche, mentions of violence, remorse, awful dates, mentions of sex

Music blares through the night. You can smell the booze and beer in your brother's living room, just like cheap perfume and sweat as his friends talk, drink, and laugh.

Steve insisted that you shall join the party. Working the whole week and spending your time in your room is not the way he imagined how you spend your life.

“Get a beer, relax and dance with the girls.” Steve tries to make you feel comfortable around his friends, but most of the time you feel like you do not belong.

Nat, Wanda, and Carol are nice, but the other girls drawn to your brother and his friends, are always bitching around.

While Steve’s female friends are nice, even drag you out of your shell sometimes the other girls seem to do not like you.

Maybe it’s as Steve focusses his attention on you, his sister, when you are around or that you do not drink until you pass out, but they always find a reason to make you feel unwelcome.

“You look pretty tonight, Y/N. I bet all the guys in this room, except for your brother, of course, will lose their heart to you.” Sam Wilson, Mr. Charming in flesh and blood takes your hand to lead you toward Clint and Wanda.

“There she is!” Wanda smirks, looking you all over before she gives you an approving hum. “You bought a pink one! Me too!” Wanda wears a pink top, white skinny jeans and matching pink heels. “We look like twins.”

“I must admit, Wanda is right.” Clint snickers as the redhead gives him a thumb up at his comment. “You look stunning, just like Miss Maximoff. I bet Bucky will finally make a move.” You like Clint, but sometimes his mouth is faster than his brain.

Just like right now. While he blurs out the words two of the girls who tried to get Steve’s and Bucky’s attention start to giggle before they run off.

“I don’t think so…” Grumbling you take the beer Sam offers, returning his soft smile. “I am not the kind of girl Bucky would ask out. We are friends, that’s all.”

“He calls you doll; Y/N. Bucky never called any other girl like that.” Natasha insists as she steps closer.

“Our shy guy is watching you since you entered the room. I can tell he does not want to hold hands or crap. His looks are full of hunger…”

“Don’t scare her, Nat. Let’s make sure he will dance with our fledgling.” Clint grins as he strides toward Steve to distract your brother long enough for Bucky to make a move.

“Go and get the guy. Just walk over there and ask him about his new bike. You know, he bought a new one last week. It’s black and he asked someone to give the bike a nice ‘tattoo’ in a week.” Wanda shoves you toward Bucky.

You want to talk to him, want to ask him about the bike, just like Wanda suggested but two girls flank his side and he seems to enjoy their company.

Before you can even say ‘hi’ to your brothers’ best friend one of the girl's eyes you up and down, snorting at your pink dress.

“What does Miss Piggy want here? Did Stevie invite everyone in town or is she a clown?” The girl snickers and you feel your heart drop.

You liked the dress, Wanda liked it too, but that girl looks at you as if you are wearing a clown suit.

“I guess Stevie wanted her to have fun,” Bucky smirks as you look down your body to find a reason why the girl laughed about you. “I guess she stole the dress from Miss Piggy to impress the boys.”

The words coming from the man you admire, even secretly are in love with feel like someone stabbed your heart, twisted the knife, and carved it out of your chest.

“Look at the little girl. I guess she’s about to cry…” The other girl coos and you turn on your heels before you storm out of the room to run upstairs.

Natasha and Wanda call your name, even run after you while Sam storms toward Bucky, followed by a very pissed Clint.

“Y/N, Sweetie…wait…” Natasha tries but you slam the door to your room shut. Locking your door, you sniffle silently as Natasha calls your name. “Open the door, Y/N. Come on. Tell us what happened…”

“Ask Bucky and his girls.” Turning toward your bed you open the zipper, shove the straps down your shoulders to let the dress pool around your ankles.

“Y/N?” You can hear Steve’s voice from the other side of the door, but tonight you will not open the door for your brother either. “Cupcake, open the door or I’ll kick it open!”

“Stevie, go back to your party and have fun with your friends and those girls. I am just having a headache.” Changing into pajamas, fluffy socks, and your favorite slipper you sit onto your bed, wiping the tears away.

“I will break it, Y/N.” Steve rams his shoulder against your door and you get up, sighing.

“Why did you cry?” The moment you open the door, Steve, cups your cheek. “Baby sis?”

“It’s stupid, Stevie. I should have known better than to try to talk to your best friend while he’s surrounded by two chicks. I am Miss Piggy to them and Bucky. Just let me have some sleep and tomorrow I’ll go and have some fun.”

“I will rip him a new one! I swear he’ll not survive this party!” Steve’s voice booms through your room as he stands there to watch you curl into a ball onto your bed.

“Save it, Stevie. We both know that this was my fault. I had to buy this stupid dress and go to a party where I do not belong. They are your friends, not mine. I should stick to the men asking me out.” Steve covers you with your blanket, not knowing what to think about his friend’s behavior.

“Y/N, I’ll be back later. Sleep a bit.” Your brother presses a soft kiss to your temple before he leaves your room.

His hands balled into fists he storms down the staircases to beat his friend into a pulp.

“Wait! Stevie, you can’t do this…” Natasha and Wanda drag the girls bullying you out of Steve’s house. Natasha even fisted the girl’s hair to drag her out.

“You were not invited. Out of my house and I dare you to get close to my house, my club or my sister, the girl you harassed, ever again. I know you like to be close to the big bad bikers, but do you know what happens to people hurting my sister?” Steve towers over the girls and they flinch when he steps closer.

“We didn’t know she’s your sister…Sir.” The girl calling you Miss Piggy whines.

“I don’t care if you did know shit! You came to my house, uninvited and harassed one of my guests. My sister or not, if you come to my house, you respect the people in there or you will pay for it. Get out of my sight before I forget my manners!”

Wanda never saw Steve that mad before. Even she flinched when he made another step toward the girls.

“Let’s get back inside, the show is over.” Sam tries as the girls run away. “We should talk to Bucky. I want to know why he pulled that shit after you allowed him to go out with Y/N. I don’t get him…”

“Same, Sam. I told him he can ask her out and he has the guts to hurt my baby sis at my party, at my house.”

“I want to hear it coming from you Buck. I want to hear why you broke my vulnerable baby sis’s heart.” Arms crossed over his chest Steve glares at his friend as Bucky runs one hand down his face.

“I had to scare her off. You know that I am no good for your sister. We are the bad guys, bikers and my job is it to beat the shit out of people disrespecting you, the club and our members. All I know is how to drink, hit people and fuck a girl behind a bar.”

“I knew this when I told you that Y/N is no longer off-limits to you. She is in love with you since she turned sixteen, Buck. My baby sis wants you, so she will get you. Now find a way to make it up to her and come back tomorrow.” Steve steps closer, jaw ticking, hands balled into fists he nods at Sam.

“Bucky, you should go now. Have a shower, wear clean clothes, and buy flowers for the girl. You better prepare a speech before you come to the inquisition.” Clint hums, watching Brock flirt with Natasha.

“Dude, hands off my girl!”

“I did not touch her, Barton. I got a nice girl right over there. Her ass is even nicer.” Snickering Carol gives her boyfriend a wink. “Where’s Peggy, Steve?”

“At her parent's place. She has to explain why a biker is the right guy for her – again by the way.” Sighing Steve falls onto a chair, running his fingers nervously through his hair. “I don’t know if she will stay with me.”

“You’re a catch, Steve. Now let us talk about how to kick Bucky’s ass for hurting our girl.” Clint’s eyes meet your brothers. “Kicking his balls? Scratching his new bike? Cutting his hair…or wait – he already did so as the colleague Y/N flirted with has short black hair…”

“Shut up, punk…” Bucky was silent the whole time but now he grits his teeth. “I did it to make sure she can find a nice guy…”

“And a nice guy she’ll find…”

“Where are you going?” Watching you walk down the stairs, wearing a brand-new cerulean dress and a fake smile you stop in your tracks as your brother looks at you.

“I do what you told me to do. I will have more in my life than work and hiding in my room. Alexander Pierce junior asked me out weeks ago. I refused to go out with him but after last night…”

Stiffing you give Steve a cracked smile. “Bucky is out of my league, I got that, so I’ll try to find a nice guy appreciating me and my Miss Piggy dress.” Pecking Steve’s cheek, you ignore Sam’s worried face, or the way your brother’s jaw ticks.

“You sure about that?”

“I can’t wait for the rest of my life for your best friend to fall in love with me. I thought, no believed, that Bucky is at least my friend, but I was wrong.”

Steve cannot do anything but watch you walk out of the house. While you step out of your brother’s house, Bucky sprints toward the gate as you keep your eyes trained toward the car waiting for you.

“Doll…uh—hey.” Bucky tries, opening the door but you ignore his presence, his words, and the single rose in his hands.

“Mr. Barnes.” Your voice is cold, eyes not meeting his you pass him by without acknowledging him further.

Steve’s eyes follow you to the parked car, the one belonging to your date and he nods at Sam. Signalizing him and Clint to follow you to make sure your date behaves like a gentleman.

“She has a date…” Huffing Bucky looks at the single rose in his hands.

“Yeah, with Alexander Pierce junior, the world's biggest asshole. Follow that girl and get her.” Brock grunts, pointing toward Bucky’s brand-new bike. “We all know you want that guy to spray Y/N’s name on your bike.”

“Maybe that guy is the better choice, Brock. We are…” Fisting Bucky’s leather jacket Brock glares at his friend.

“Listen, Bucky. We had our conflicts in the beginning, but I hope you know we are friends. I would not let my girl go for anything in the world. Am I an ass? – yes! Did I do stupid and dangerous stuff? – yes! Would I let Alexander Pierce junior fuck my girl? – no fucking way!”

“Fuck her?” Pale Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. Panic rises in his chest and he nods at Steve. “I need the club…all of us. I will get my girl…”

“You heard my first lieutenant. Let’s ride…”

Dinner could be pleasant if your date would be more subtle while staring at other women’s ass or at least try to listen to what you have to say.

The whole time the man asking you five times to go out with him has nothing better to do than playing with his phone, telling you about his newest car and on top of all – he stares at your waitresses ass.

“That’s nice…” Poking the food he ordered with your fork (He didn’t even give you the chance to decide what you want to eat.) you try to remember why you agreed to go out with this awful man.

Outside the restaurant, Steve’s club parks their bikes. Steve smirks, as Bucky nervously straightens his clothes.

“I’ll go and get my girl now.” Bucky takes the roses from Natasha before he rushes toward the restaurant. He is nervously opening the door, but the moment his eyes land on you his back straightens, and he walks toward the table.

“Excuse us, but we are trying to have a conversation. We don’t need…” Your date glances up at an incredibly angry-looking biker and you can help yourself but giggle as his jaw goes slack and his fork drops onto the table.

“What do you want here?” Alexander juniors’ eyes widen as you bark at the biker right next to him. “I have a nice dinner right now. I don’t think Miss Piggy has time for an audience right now.”

“Doll, I tried to help you hate me. Stevie allowed me to ask you out for a date and I panicked. I believed someone with a regular job and a not so shitty past would be better for you.” Humming you place the fork next to the plate.

“Interesting. So, you believed that I would like to go out with a guy not giving a shit on me. With someone not even listening to what I have to say while he’s busy looking at every girl’s ass in the restaurant?” Your words make Bucky chuckle and he holds out his hand, but you get up without taking his hand.

“Y/N.” Ignoring Bucky you grab your purse, toss some money onto the table before you turn to leave. “Please, doll. Let me apologize for acting like a douche.”

“You’re an idiot, Barnes.” Bucky follows you outside, rushing to your side to walk with you. He tries to guide you toward his bike, but you walk toward your brother.

“Guys, Girls.” Nodding at Steve’s club you want to get on Steve’s bike, but he shakes his head. “Steve?”

“Cupcake, he’s your man now. Teach him a lesson but let him drive you home.” Your eyes narrow as Steve motions the club to start their engines. The whole club let their engine roar before they drive away.

“Doll…please…” Huffing you turn around to look at Bucky. “I am the first lieutenant of the Howling Commando. I’d like to drive you home and more…”

“More, Mr. Barnes?” Humming Bucky shows you the roses and you let your eyes drink him in.

“I want to know why you cut your hair.”

“You flirted with that guy, admiring his new haircut. I thought you did not like my long hair and cut it. I wanted to get your attention, Y/N. Can I drive you home now, doll? Please?”

“I need to be at home at …” Smirking you shrug. “I don’t know when. I mean, it depends if you want to feel my big brothers’ wrath.”

“We could go for a walk with my bike, Y/N. I mean…uh—doll. I’d like to spend some time with you.”

“It’s 2 am, James Buchanan Barnes.“ Eyes narrowed, hands balled into fists your brother watches Bucky and you walk upstairs. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Stevie. You said I am her man now. The lady wanted to go for a ride with my bike, then she wanted some ice cream and now we are going to her room and watch her favorite movie. It’s called redemption.”

“Did you touch her?” Steve cocks his head, poking a finger into his friends’ chest. “I dare you to say yes…”

“I held her hand and helped her off my bike. I may or may not kissed her lips and touched her neck with my lips. I think I’d like to touch her some more, but we did not even reach the first base…” Bucky smirks while you tug at his jacket.

“I want to watch a movie.” Whining you look at Steve. “He won’t get any until he made everything up to me.”

“Fine. You can watch a movie with my sister. No touching. No kissing. No making-out.”

“Yes, Sir.” Bucky follows you upstairs as Sam, Clint, and the others watch the both of you. “Our girl grew up so fast…” Sam sighs.

“We need to make sure he uses condoms,” Clint adds while the girls dreamily watch Bucky grasp for your hand.

“I guess they will go at it like animals soon enough.” Brock snickers and Steve feels his stomach tighten.

“Fuck! I did forget they could have sex…”

Laughter fills the house and Steve can feel his heart race as you turn around to press your lips to his first lieutenant.

“Yeah, Steve. Sooner or later he will ruin your baby sis…”

All works Tags

@yolobloggers

@meganywinchester

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

@letsdisneythings

@i-love-superhero

@psychicforest

@thevelvetseries

@deanmonandnegansbitch

@sabascio

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@the-broken-angel-13

@trumpettay

@zxph-yr

---------------------------------------------------------

Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore

@notyourtypicalrose

@voltage-my2dlove

@officialmarvelwhore

@randomgirlkensy

@juniorhuntersam

@lumar014

@doctorswife221b

@sister-winchesters99

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

@the-soulofdevil

@chonisberonica

@redroomproperty

@natura1phenomenon

@chaoticfiretaconerd

@heartislubbingdubbing

@hhiggs

@sea040561

@midnightsilver16830

@rvgrsbrns

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@amandamdiehl

------------------------------------------------------

Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

@rynabarnesrogers

@marshyrebelcloud

@buchanan-lover

#Miss Piggy #bucky barnes #biker!bucky #biker!steve rogers #steve rogers x sister!reader #angst #steve rogers #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #marvel #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #biker au #biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader

829 notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 3 years

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Down at the expensive industrial equipment store, they've got these cool briefcases you can buy. They're made out of steel, or aluminum, or something (they won't let me touch them) but that's not the cool part. The cool part is that it's full of foam that you can cut up and pick out to make a perfect fit for whatever tools you're going to put in it. Naturally, I wanted one, and why not?

Imagine rolling up to a wrenching party and then taking out your engraved stainless steel briefcase. Something primal passes through the group. Everyone present stops and stares, distracted from trying to figure out how to work the rear subframe out of a dirtbag 180SX without having to drop the exhaust. You reach into your case, only to pull out a single badly worn breaker bar, maybe with something ominous hand-engraved in the handle like "DESTROYER" or "THE FULCRUM." Those rusted bolts on the car will shit themselves in fear so violently that they'll spin right out of the body, the threads in their mating captive nuts left cleaner than they did when they left the factory.

Unfortunately, I can't actually afford one of these oh-so-desirable cases. I'm stuck with putting my face and hands against the display case glass until the employees have to throw me out for only buying $1.28 in specialty metric bolts and harassing the other customers about whether they'll let me borrow any M6x1.25 taps that they're not using at the moment.

Of course, I have my own carrying case for my mobile toolkit, but it was an old linesman's bag that I found next to a smouldering corpse on the highway. Don't worry: the bag was fine, and I'm sure the power company eventually went looking for which of their employees wasn't bright enough to understand the concept of "don't touch the wires together." It doesn't have the same flash as the case, but it comes by it more honestly, with a lifetime of good old-fashioned hard work showing on every wrinkled chunk of leather and torn-up handle. Does it smell really bad? Also yes, but nobody can know about how that self-plucking foam is going to stink after fifteen years of getting ATF leaked into it too. Maybe it will also smell like burning hair.

For now, I just drive past the store every couple of days at night, and dream about pulling a slightly dented floor model out of their dumpster. Hey. I bet I could tow that dumpster. And it's made out of metal. Plenty of room for tools!

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chicago-geniza · 3 years

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well i intended to go for a nice evening walk, ended up having a panic attack, ordering a couple of cocktails at the bougie bar, joining a jam session with a bunch of old hippies on the logan green (one of them gave me a handpainted wooden medallion which seems to be carved out of tree bark, strung on a length of yarn???), met a crustpunk train-hopping dude in town for the month (& his dog, in a leather-studded harness) who's lived in 45/50 states & a 44 yr old guy everyone called "the wizard" wearing a tattered, patch-covered robe who shares most of my parents' conspiracy theories & considers himself a latter-day prophet, he bought us sorbet & ice cream, wound up hanging out with them & staying up all night at their indescribably eclectic, cluttered, blood-spattered (!!!) apartment, belonging to 44 yr old guy's art curator father & decorated accordingly, smoking m*th & listening to music & talking (or rather listening to them rant/rave/recount stories from their incredibly wild lives), i gave them advice on applying for unemployment & medicaid & how to appear compliant enough w/ carceral psychiatric intervention so they won't section you without actually submitting to forced medication or institutionalization, especially if they assign you a case worker & do regular "wellness checks." also how to pass off certain aspects of behavioral dysregulation as executive dysfunction, get them to pay for an adhd evaluation, get an adderall IR scrip, sell the 30 mg pills (cite body weight, high doses of other psych meds as reason for higher dose; look sincere; play to systemic biases toward cis white men, unfortunately), & use the cash to buy m*th, if they'd prefer to keep doing that. you can also pass positive psychotic symptoms--agitation etc.--off as severe anxiety, especially if you have a history of trauma, & they will give you benzodiazepines. it is in their best interest to keep you docile, i.e. tranquilized, particularly if your past convictions & involuntary institutionalizations revolve around a pattern of aggressive behavior, & that's On The Record/there's a paper trail. (e.g. one dude got arrested trying to keep cars away from an injured bird on the road, some genre of raptor i think (???) by threatening them with a shopping cart, not hitting them, but like, running at them as if to collide then feinting at the last minute so they'd swerve out of the way. not the safest or most effective maneuver, lotta reckless endangerment, but the motivation was admirable. probably put the fear of god into some drivers, though. he doesn't seem to have, like, impulse control.) it's a lot easier & you have fewer run-ins with the cops if you game the system & appear cooperative. they gave me this coat, which "just showed up in their apartment one day," like i did. 44 yr old guy walked me back to apartment, stole a street sign & tore down a real estate sign en route, lori lightfoot did indeed take down the pride flag in front of her house on july 1st & replace it with an appropriately patriotic american flag, i walked past the idling plainclothes cop car & another marked police vehicle with their Mayoral Guarding Detail inside at like 4.30 am smoking a menthol cigarette (not inhaling), high on m*th, draped in a neon anime jacket, in the company of a visibly insane, unshaven & unshorn middle-aged man in a technicolor patchwork trenchcoat, holding a lit cigarette in one hand & an upside-down traffic cone in the other, which he was using as an ad hoc amplifier for a noise track playing on my phone. he was also carrying the stolen real estate banner &, inexplicably, a stack of mail. i gave him my old backup phone (no SIM card & doesn't hold a charge long, ancient, but still works), since neither he nor the other dude have phones (cops took them), also one hybrid edible for each of them, as a thanks for the m*th & the kindness. their hearts are in the right place but they have some fucked-up beliefs about "reverse racism" being real, while also saying in the same breath that you can tell our country is irredeemable by the way it continues to

treat black people. we were discussing medical weed for seizures on medicaid & 44 yr old guy mentioned one of his close friends, a black epileptic woman, whose seizures were frequent & severe enough they prevented her from working. then he added, in apparent bemusement, they she hadn't spoken to him in some time, & he wondered why. a little while later he relayed their last conversation & i was like "my dude, i can say with 100% certainty she is not talking to you because you said some *appallingly*, jaw-droppingly racist shit & did not even realize it was racist." then i, comma, a white person, explained to this man that he literally thought of their exchange as, like, an abstract argument over insignificant ideas, a theoretical exercise, & therefore considered it simply a smug gotcha to "counter" hotep theories about egyptian origin by claiming that "if that's true, american slavery & the oppression of black people in america are divine retribution for the enslavement of the jews in ancient egypt, an eye for an eye & a deserved punishment." like, first of all, what the actual fuck, if i were that woman i would also never speak to you again, second of all there's the collapse of historical time & mythical time, history & exegesis, an assumption that rests on spurious claims of biblical literalism (zionist colonization logic, btw! him: what's exegesis? what's zionism? me: never mind, not the point. exegesis is the interpretation of religious texts in a religious CONtext, in this case what you would likely call the hebrew bible.)--but most importantly it is 100% irrelevant to this discussion whether or not black americans are Actually Factually descendended from ancient egypt! you just told this woman to her face that the ancestry she claims, of which she's proud, is the reason & justification for SLAVERY & BLACK SUFFERING--not only that, but that if it WERE true, than black people would DESRVE to suffer, by DIVINE DECREE. you are trying to force her to abdicate her claim on this heritage by putting her in a position where she'd be forced to concede complicity in her people's historical & present-day persecution, oppression, & essentially the existence of structural racism. & using The Figural Jew as a rhetorical cudgel to bludgeon her into this corner. what a despicable thing to say. like, he hadn't considered it from her perspective at all, & once he groked why the comment itself was, like, unforgivable (idk, maybe she's more forgiving; she has a virtue-name), i started socratic-method-ing him through why it was particularly unforgivable for *him* to say to *her*--the individual is not responsible for the systems from they benefit, but they are imbricated in them, they are implicated when they actively perpetuate & uphold them, even with speech acts. & finally gave the same "there is no such thing as reverse racism because racism is not an individual act, it is an institutional, systemic phenomenon, & it is an ideology, one which individual acts can bear out or be in accordance with, & to which individuals can subscribe (this bearing it out in their behavior, in their institutional roles, in their interpersonal interactions--here i gave & solicited examples of each) or be subject (also gave & solicited examples). m*th makes me very good at Explaining clearly & he was surprisingly receptive--like, it was astonishing that it had not occurred to him??? but it hadn't, the same way it hadn't occurred to my mother, & she interpreted it as "reverse racist" when their next-door neighbor called her the "white devil" for disputing their property line, & i had to be like "ok but if you called in a random third party to mediate in lily-white [city], oregon, where white supremacists openly drive down the street in pickup trucks with swastika armbands, whose side do you think they would take, statistically speaking, in your property dispute. that's why racism is systemic & institutional, & your rude neighbor calling you a name over a disagreement does not constitute 'reverse racism,' because 'reverse racism' by definition cannot

exist." now this dude wants to like, read books, so i gotta get him some entry-level Intro To Racism primers??? how did i end up here, but better me than his black epileptic (ex-)friend, i guess??? jesus christ. both of these guys have the most chaotic, reactionary politics in a potpourri with these deep commitments to abolition & mutual aid & a kind of proto-anarchist consciousness, none of which would be called by those names, but all of which is borne out in practice & in the politics of everyday life. they remind me a LOT of my parents. i'm loath to imagine how they'd internalize my stepdad's rambling, street-preacher-style libertarian lectures. probably go out & buy guns & invest in gold on the stock market & double down on the conviction that free speech is being curtailed & individual rights are in jeopardy because you can no longer unleash a barrage of harassment against some guy on the street because you think he looked at you funny. these claustrophobic convictions, like the space to express oneself is getting smaller & smaller every day, *other people* are taking it away from you, suffocating you on all sides with their offense demanding your silence, they are *making* the walls close in--when in fact it's more like a holodeck. you're a member of the Hegemonic Group, afforded the privilege of the default, so you don't question the vast verdant expanse that is your domain--ah, Free Speech, the sun never sets on the empire of ~uncensored expression, you can say whatever you want whenever you want without facing consequences because you control all the organs that mete out consequences & you have also determined that those groups who might be adversely affected by your words--emotionally OR materially--are not, well...of consequence. but of course the vast verdant domain is an illusion, photons & forcefields, held together by the all-encompassing TOTALITY of the dominant group's hegemony, power, etc. once that power begins to redistribute throughout the system--however unevenly, however incrementally, however slowly--as even the smallest pieces are appropriated by those deemed inconsequential, who have endured years of systemic, material, institutional violence that allowed the dominant group to become dominant & retain its dominant position--once those 'inconsequential' groups speak up & say "actually, these words bear an indelible imprint of the violence enacted upon us, these words are the legacy of that violence, these words are a tacit endorsement of the ideology behind that violence, which classifies us as subhuman, & even if *you* can't hear those echoes, the words broadcast on two historical frequencies, so now that we're able to broadcast on a frequency *you* can hear, we request you find other language, & consider the implications of the words you've been using for years." well--once The Subaltern Speaks, the dominant group loses its 'innocence,' & becomes aware the vast verdant expanse of language is an illusion of infinite space, aware of the four holodeck walls pressing in behind the simulacrum of the horizon, & suddenly "what one can say without negative consequences"--largely social, sometimes, rarely, if social media goes viral, professional--feels much more claustrophobic. so they get angry. & some of them are just bigots, obviously, but some of them--like my parents, &, even, this weirdly well-intentioned m*thhead who said one of the most shockingly racist things i've heard in my life & *honestly didn't understand why it was racist*, is really riled up about free speech & individual rights, hates the government, hates "FANG" (facebook amazon netflix google) & has a bunch of dystopian conspiracy theories about data harvesting & personal information that only miss the mark in that they get too nefariously biopolitical (billionaires want to put microchips in everybody for surveillance to monitor our movements & sell us more stuff; they don't need to, they already use our phone location & browsing habits to generate the algorithm & sell the information to ad companies lol, it's digital& cast a

single illuminati figure in the role of comic book villain, controlling the operation behind the scenes like an evil puppetmaster (classic conspiracy fare; again, we gotta take that energy, that suspicion, the understanding that they are being taken advantage of & tricked, the idea that power & capital & resources are concentrated among a very small number of people, however it's not an individual wealthy villain with a desire for world domination who wants to turn Free Americans into microchipped drones, it's a *class* of people--or rather several classes, but *who those people are as individuals does not matter*. if you guillotined bill gates, another billionaire would take his place. bill gates qua bill gates is not the problem. it is classes of people who control the means of production & own property & profit enormously from exploiting the labor of a desperate, rapidly increasing underclass, i.e. from the system as it is. therefore it is in their interest to maintain the status quo, because it serves them. 'the rich get richer, the poor get poorer.' the middle class gradually ceases to exist. if you want to compound it by race, consider the GI bill as an example - you learn about it as the leg up that enabled thousands of WWII vets to buy houses, enabling them to enter the middle class. hundreds of thousands of third-gen middle class white americans still reap the structural, socioeconomic benefits of their grandparents' initial upward mobility, including,, very tangibly, those selfsame houses, which can be inherited & then rented out as a second property if the children or grandchildren accrue enough money to buy their own properties. but only about 100 black vets got approved for homeownership loans, despite the staggering numbers of black soldiers who enlisted & applied through the GI bill. anyway! the impulses are there, & they're only being funneled into conspiracy thinking because that makes intuitive sense on a narrative level. these guys have a high school education; so does my stepdad. their reading habits are...eclectic, sporadic, pretty much dictated by occasional recommendations & like, little free libraries around the neighborhood. it's both interesting & frustrating to see like - hey, here are these people, we agree on a lot of things, they're earnest & open & want to learn & would give their neighbor the shirt off their backs as a matter of principle. they'd give a *stranger* the shirt off their backs; they'd share whatever they had. even what chores there are in their collective--they live with two other guys--(dumpster diving, walking the dog, tidying up the apartment) are allocated by ability & inclination. they made advance plans to look after the dog & their roommate with War PTSD on the 4th of july if the fireworks upset them, jokingly called the dog an emotional support animal. you give them the tools, the reading, talk to them like normal people with a stake in society--like, imagine a society that would have a stake in people like you instead of criminalizing you & consigning you to the margins! that's already *political imagination* because anyone who occupies a marginalized position will have their existence politicized, whether they want this or not, so better to become a self-aware, self-reflexive political subject, no?--talk *with* them because tbh i am them, i'm just better at situational masking & also i am very very afraid of cops so i only damage property in groups during planned political actions (not spontaneously, because i feel a flash of rage at my neighborhood gentrifying, & simply do not have a superego, so i tear down the real estate sign for the fancy new apartment complex in a fit of pique, because in this house we believe that spontaneity can & should be developed into class consciousness, again, the seeds of which are there in the initial trigger for the spontaneous reaction, i.e. anger at gentrification. not opposed to a little direct action, but they're just gonna put up a new sign tomorrow, it doesn't advance your agenda or hinder the gentrifiers' progress. now, if

you sabotaged the construction site for the new apartment buildings & painted a few potent symbols + graffiti'd a pithy, written statement expressing your opposition to gentrification generally & these apartments specifically? in a prominent place, large font, eye level, visible & legible from oh, a block away? maybe as a member of a collective, your neighbors, perhaps? & you could sign it "[neighborhood] or [block] residents" to pack more of a punch, the power of a crowd speaking in unison to say "not OUR home, you predatory developers"? that's no longer spontaneous, impulsive, affective violence, & it's also no longer an individual--acting alone leaves you vulnerable. again--i didn't just *intuit* that he tore the sign down because he was mad about gentrification, i asked, in a genuinely curious tone, not at all accusatory, no hint of reprimand or censure, just...interested, "why did you do that?" & he was like "it made me fucking mad." & i was like "what about it made you mad? the apartments? how come?" & he thought about it for a minute & explained. i'm not sure *he* necessarily made the conscious connection until prompted. idk, i know people talk a lot about the fact that breitbart & drudge report are free while NYT & "all the news fit to print" is paywalled, & q-pilled covid hoax sites are free while "reputable" pandemic coverage & public health guidelines & explanations of mRNA vaccines for a lay audience are paywalled & that's true but also We Live In A Society & if you talk to the wingnuts who AREN'T that way because of any far-right ideology, a lot of them are just...autodidacts without much formal education but a lot of raw intelligence that leads to analyzing The Big Picture & trying to deduce a pattern, find a framework that explains why the world is the way it is, profoundly frustrated, deeply aware of American society's, universalized & figured as the world's, exceptional unfairness & cruelty, & *that can be redirected* with reading, discussion, prompting critical thought, introducing community connections, & perhaps most importantly for this genre of person, getting them to see patterns at work in terms of systems & structures rather than individuals, letting go of American individualism's explanatory power & belief in its liberatory potential (see: the sort of ad hoc libertarianism that goes hand-in-glove with much conspiracy thinking, both stemming from 1) mistrusting the government, & 2) ultimate freedom of the individual as the most sacred value, therefore it is what all enemies want to take away), outlining positive, actionable goals rather than just ambient suspicion & anger at authority, & figuring out how those goals can be accomplished more effectively by an organized collective (but this will ultimately benefit the individual). If the world isn't run by a shadowy cabal, if you begin to understand the structures responsible & how they manifest even on the scale of your block (e.g.!!! predatory developers buying up properties during a pandemic, tearing down affordable housing to build expensive condos on the lot, or giving old buildings a "spit and polish" so they can double the rent, pricing all the current residents out, not to mention all the little local businesses, almost all mexican & run by the mexican families who live here, that give our block its culture & will get pushed out by boutique coffee shops & the like, catering to a more affluent & almost certainly whiter clientele)--you can, in fact, change the world, something both of them repeatedly referred to as their purpose on earth. it may not be as a maverick figure, one against an army, but strength in numbers is an aphorism for a reason.

anyway! thse guys were also really weird about jews, in the philosemitic way conspiracy theorists of a certain stripe often are. the itinerant vagabond guy gave me one of his drawings; it's really lovely. i'm going to give them "are prisons obsolete?" & "the wretched of the earth" & some david graeber. 44 yr old guy has this idea that society is atomized & people aren't connected to each other & have lost the willingness or the ability to communicate with each other, also that the overreach of authority has driven some people to violence, & that makes the world feel unsafe to everyone else. he feels guilty because he is acutely aware that language, when wielded adroitly & intentionally, always has the capacity to manipulate; he is afraid of succumbing to the temptation, because he senses the coercive power of language within himself. the other guy was mostly quiet but said 44 yr old guy is one of the best friends he's ever had. he thinks animals are able to sense emotions and to heal, & he thinks they can mediate between people who have become too isolated, who have forgotten humans' innate ability to forge connections, approach others as social creatures seeking to bond instead of mistrustful, apprehensive, rejecting overtures of friendship because they expect subterfuge, or propriety has evolved to deem such overtures inappropriate outside of strictly delineated, artificially orchestrated contexts. deviation from the norm is not permitted. & back again to policing. they have an idea called "the omega family," omega for the end, a group of like-minded people who come together, who encounter each other serendipitously (predicted through auspicious auguries & recognized on sight through a constellation of signs & wonders, because of course we are all psychotic here, it was nice to just be psychotic & discuss these things like they were normal lol), & serve as catalysts to each other's "personal truth." anyway this is why i don't go out when i'm crazy, i always end up in situations like this, see also: the last time i did m*th, in a pizza hut bathroom in tallinn with an art student from glascow named muhammad ali (he went by ali), the son of white muslim converts--we thought it was c*ke but it got lost in translation & that's how i figured out i had adhd. later i got [redacted] by a filmmaker from kazan & he gave me his business card afterward for some reason, which was extremely funny. thankfully these dudes were better behaved. one of them even gave a speech about how men shouldn't rape people??? & also how our society shouldn't construct women as universal victims because in doing so it makes victimhood almost compulsory & shoehorns women into a victim role as part & parcel of womanhood? i was like yes my dude you are almost there, read the essay "abject feminism." (i did not tell them i was trans bc i wasn't sure how that would shake down, to be honest; couldn't get a read on it. did tell them i was gay & they respected it, though one did say he dated a lesbian once, & i explained that many men feel compelled to interject with an anecdote relating an exception to the rule or insist that they will he the exception to the rule, & it's really just bad manners, not even getting into the bad politics. he took it on the chin & talked about how the girl in question came home to find her partner dead of an overdose & his wife had just died of MS, so their relationship was more about grief & comfort than sexual attraction. i was like that's really, really sad, & it's wonderful that you were able to be there for each other at a time of such staggering loss, & i am a person who totally understands what you mean to communicate, but if a lesbian tells you they're a lesbian & you reply that you once dated a lesbian & they get offended & instead of responding with contrition or correction you elaborate on the tragic backstory of the relationship as though that explains the circumstances in which a self-proclaimed lesbian would date a cis man, other lesbians *will* deck you, or at the very least not take you, an unwashed white guy in

his 40s who isn't neurotypical & sits way too close for social convention in a way that could easily be construed as a come-on, in good faith.) tl;dr made some new friends, did some good drügs (i much prefer smoking m*th to snorting it, basically like purer, more potent adderall, & as such will not be doing it again for a LONG time, because i enjoy it FAR too much; slices through the brain fog & the chronic fatigue & the joint/bone pain, makes me able to pay attention, follow the thread of a conversation, actually be *interested* & want to ask *questions* & expand, build, encourage my interlocutor to elaborate, place more kal-toh pieces until the conversation shimmers into a three-dimensional shape, instead of being listless & exhausted & disengaged & *bored* all the time, so obviously i would get addicted immediately if given the opportunity, & i've known this forever lol)--now going to hydrate, refill pill case, write some emails, & meet C at the beach! not how i expected to reboot my brain, but it works! also putting them on limited facebook view because i try to keep some groups of people in my life quarantined from each other & that includes 1) my relatives & my academic ~colleagues (ne'er the twain shall meet), 2) my exes & my family, 3) my relatives, colleagues, & uh. a couple of lovely, but extremely psychotic dudes with very long criminal records i met while doing hard drugs

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years

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I loved your hc about how insecure demetri would be after everything that went down. He'd probably try to hide it but I don't think he'd ever quite shake the feeling that Eli is embarrassed of him.

RIGHT??? Like man...imagine your best friend of YEARS, who’s been the ONLY person basically your whole life to love and indulge your geeky interests equally as much as you and the only person who you can TALK to about the things you love and the only person your age who seems to actually like...enjoy your company at all, and then basically overnight they do a complete 180 and all the stuff you both used to love and have bonded over your whole lives is just “dumb nerd shit” to them now, and they’re constantly berating and mocking you for being a “wimpy pussy” just because...you’re not that physically strong??? You don’t like being slugged in the face and given a bloody nose by a grown man??? And you’re just like...since when did any of that matter to them??? Weren’t the “jock” types who are ripped and tough always the kinds of people you two hated, the types of people who shoved their weight around and bullied both of you for no reason? Why are they buying into the exact kind of ideology that got both of you abused by your classmates for no reason for years??? And all that stuff you used to both love, of course??? Now they gotta act like it’s stupid and below them, all to seem “cool.” All to fit into this mold of a person you BOTH once thought you’d feel nothing but hate and disdain for. But none of that matters anymore, now that they’re in with the very crowd that once made both of your lives hell.

And hell, even the genuine excitement you get to feel at making a brand new friend for the first time in years is short-lived, because fuck, he’s in this insane karate cult too, led by a psycho and bully who makes the same exact comments about your best friend’s lip as the school bullies said best friend wants so badly to fight back against. And he won’t outright say it, but maybe your new friend doesn’t think you have any value either if you’re not strong and badass, and maybe he regrets befriending you after he realized all you even are is just a wimpy nerd. You don’t know what it is that he and your best friend talk about in their karate cult--maybe how lame you are? Maybe how you’re utterly pathetic, and a waste of space? Maybe how now that they have tough fighter friends, they have no reason to put up with you anymore? And your new friend seems to have no problem with his concerning senseis and their aggravated assault tendencies--he certainly wasn’t a lot of help when you literally got assaulted by one. Honestly, you must just be an embarrassment to both of them at this point, but especially your best friend, a skilled fighter with cool spiky hair who’s got no reason to want to associate with a scrawny, wimpy weirdo nerd anymore.

(This is no actual shade at my boy Miguel btw!!! He had plenty of his own issues to deal with during the whole Demetri/Hawk falling out, and seemed like he was kind of left out of the loop as to how bad it was. But Demetri had no way of knowing that!!! Without Miguel saying otherwise, he probably assumed Miguel agreed with Hawk that he was lame and not worth their time :( )

Like honestly, screw the broken arm--I think what Hawk needs to really apologize and make up for in Season 4 is all his harassing and berating Demetri for being a “pussy” and a “nerd” because like...I’m betting that shit cut a lot deeper. Like here is the one person who never judged him for being scrawny and weak and geeky and uncool, the one person who was a safe space for Demetri to freely be the things that everyone else hated, and now that same person HATES him for these things. Demetri’s used to being hated and mocked for being weak and nerdy, but never by Eli. That was the one person who he felt he could have solidarity with--if they were suffering, they were always suffering together. And now not only is Eli gone, leaving him to suffer alone, Eli is the one dishing out the abuse. And Eli isn’t just mocking him for things he loves--Eli is using the knowledge of the things he loves against him and mocking him for things they both used to love. Eli is mocking him for things they both used to be--weak and unliked.

Like bruh. Having a close friend turn on me like that and not stop bashing me over all the very same things we bonded over for years??? That shit would fuck me up. Like...the psychological trauma would be unreal. I’d probably have some trust issues for a cool minute, like “does this person actually also like this thing I like, or are they pretending to like it so they can make fun of me about it and use it against me later???” And I think those kinds of mental scars are going to be a lot more rough for Demetri to deal with than having his arm in a cast for a few weeks. And Hawk has a LOT of atoning to do for that in particular, I think. I’m hoping we get to see him building Demetri up and encouraging him, both about his strength and his fighting skills and about how there’s nothing wrong with being into “nerd shit”!!!! I think Demetri needs some positive affirmation from Hawk more than anything, after so long of just being relentlessly torn down by him. Even if Hawk never outright apologizes for this specifically, I do still hope he’ll try to make it up to Demetri somehow. Because I’m honestly betting that at the end of the day, tearing Demetri apart verbally and using their joint past against him hurt a hell of a lot more than any beating Hawk ever gave to him. I think it’s going to be a long time yet before Demetri stops worrying that Hawk is still secretly embarrassed to have him around, and I can only hope Hawk can help soothe his fears about this as best he possibly can.

#hawk x demetri #demetri x eli #binary boyfriends #hawkmeat #eli x demetri #demetri x hawk #elimetri #demetri cobra kai #eli moskowitz #miguel diaz #cobra kai #cobra kai season 2 #cobra kai season 3 #cobra kai season 4 #hawk #demetri #eli #my askbox

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rametarin · 3 years

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I didn’t want to reblog another long post, so I’ll just say my own thing here.

Gatekeeping fandom is good, ackshully.

Especially since we have a certain pattern of person, call them, “SJWs” if you want, that deliberately creep into a fandom with their values and shamelessly, deliberately, use it as a platform. They CONSCIOUSLY do this. They DELIBERATELY do this.

And then they have the audacity to see false positives and imagine dog whistles everywhere of things outside THEIR orthodoxy in the fandom being -isms, or -gnies. Accusing the people already there of being “out of date” and “toxic”, when it’s neither toxic nor uninclusive- it just isn’t rearranging itself to accommodate Intersectional Feminism or giving Intersectional Feminists voluntary control over everything from how something works to how it’s defined.

That to them is tantamount to being Nazis. And that’s kind of how you can tell they’re the same sort of daft, disingenuous fucks that wrap up socialist or ancom shit in supposed social progress. And if they could they’re reshape EVERYTHING to match their sensibilities, because their sensibilities are, “our way or you die.”

If you spend enough time peeking through academic papers and colleges you even learn there’s a thing many of them do. Which is, “Queering,” characters on purpose, to make them unpalatable or untouchable to cis/het people. That’s culturally like raising a flag on something to annex it and landgrab it.

And if you say, “hands off, this character isn’t gay?” They pivot and declare you’re just a homophobe whom is afraid of change, tell other people that and then talk in the broad bruckstroke about, “society is really so homophobic/afraid of new ideas. :c”

These people don’t even want to be part of that fandom for the sake of being in the fandom. They just want it because they want the fandom to perpetuate their values and parrot their beliefs and spread it to everybody else that wants to participate in that fandom. Do you like this popular thing? Okay, you can have popular thing, but only if you hug this Courtney Love doll and buy it and pet it and love it as part of the package deal!

And as part and parcel of the demanding to not just define the fundamentals and parameters of a fandom, they also demand to reinterpret the history of said fandom based on how out of orthodoxy to their values they find it to their own beliefs. So, was the hobby primarily done by white men in the past? Then naturally they’ll automatically paint it with a broad brush and say, “this hobby was very unwelcoming to non-whites and women in the past because of icky homophobic and misogynistic men!” Regardless of how many authors were beloved by the fandom that were female, regardless of how many women were equal fandom members before- they weren’t the Intersectional Feminist types of fans, so clearly they were “closer to the Daughters of the Confederacy than real people,” right? That’s how that works, apparently.

So yes. We had a taste of this in the 90s, but the feminists/radfems at the time weren’t trying to infiltrate the fandom and take it over to be about feminism. They were shaming boys and other girls for liking the big booby comic book girls as sexist and objectification and trying to get comic fans to abandon comics in order to pressure the companies economically into changing.

“These comics are written and drawn by MEN! MAAAAALE GAAAAAAAAAZE!!! Sexualized girls are only okay when WOMEN are drawing them and writing them for the authenticity!” And there were not many women that either liked comic books or wanted to BE in them, so they’d maintain that impossible standard to try and coerce the boys to FIND women for the sake of having a woman on staff, just to assauge their, “icky boys aren’t allowed to do this without me declaring it wrong” qualm.

And true to form for Progressives, give an inch and within a short period of time they just want more, and declare what was offered before was just to mollify or patronize them. “Oh so women can tidy up and do the low work. Why no female CEOs in the company yet? Why not Editor in Chief?”

But the way the Intersectionals do it is new. Rather than just stay outside the fandom because “yuck it offends my sensibilities, it shouldn’t exist,” they try and appropriate the fandom and then contribute rules and policies for it.

We saw this in the years leading up to Gamergate. The Subverters infiltrated video game journos, got incestuous and buddy-buddy with both Triple A industry people and independent game creators and traded favors, financial, sexual and other, for good reviews. Folks like Anita Sarkesian trying to make a name for themselves by already being insiders and getting plugged by the conspirators to LOOK like she was anything more than a plant for that cause, using other peoples video game playing footage in her critique videos, styling herself a holistic “girl gamer” and waxing poetic about “those awful neckbearded dudebros questioning my gamer cred! Tch!”

And so that romantic boogyman became a thing that they perpetuated. “The gatekeeping, woman hating, manbaby Gamer.” Where they then added in racism and male chauvinism and traditionalism and transphobia because you know you can’t just leave it at “misogynist.” Not, “in this society.”

Gamers protesting and demanding that game journalist magazines state their relationships to the creators for full disclosure got them retaliating asymmetrically, though. The FBI investigated all those, “threatening and trolling social media messages” that supposedly got Zoe Quinn and Sarkesian to leave their houses, “for fear of an attack,” and they got nothing. A few of them were caught doxxing themselves on purpose on 4chan. Quinn herself being part of the SomethingAwful’s Crash Override forums, where they’d do shit like this to troll and harass people for fun. They KNOW how to false flag and make it look like a bunch of angry dudebros did it.

Statistically the number of harassing egg names was far lower than the messages either girl received that was NOT harassment or threats, merely replies they didn’t agree with or didn’t appreciate. And yet they still ran around screaming about “all those misogynistic dudebro gamers” that were “harassing and doxing them.” And that boogyman became the party line. That Gaming and Gamers were full of toxic, misogynistic, racist manbabies SOooOoOooOO intimidated by, “women finally in what they feel are THEIR spaces,” that they’d try to run them out.

That’s how they interpreted it and that’s how the history books they write will repeat it.

They try and make a great big public show about “entering this toxic space” to flip it and civilize it, but what they’re really trying to do is officially own it. As a fandom, as a space and as a culture. And that entails being able to say what goes, what’s acceptable and what’s not, and set the tone and culture for that space. Meaning, to be able to gatekeep the product.

Rather than just decry the product, they decide they’re just going to mutate the product by slow assimilation, until the product doesn’t even resemble the original product anymore. They do this shit with comic books, videogames, and now they’re working on doing it to beloeved novels and their fandoms. It’s like forcibly marrying them to terrible people, so you can never have a fandom WITHOUT those people in your space trying to insist their interpretations of things are original canon, ever again.

And the sickest part is, these people DO NOT stop at fiction. That’s why this shit is called Cultural Marxism. Because it’s not much different from the way communists and socialist guerillas act and operate when it comes to land, resources and industry. They take over public spaces and forums and use a combination of instittional corruption, terrorism and violence and vandalism in order to destroy or silence competition.

They’ve even infiltrated the Linux community and taken over most of that, via Linus Torvalds’ daughter. You can’t have ANYTHING around these people, because they just sit and wait and conspire to come in and make even a simple community mural to revolve around whatever social issue and specifically their philosophy’s take on it being THE only valid take on it that everybody else must now interact with, good or bad, but they can’t ignore it anymore.

This is, also, partially why they hate it when fandoms are gatekept by singularly powerful individuals. Like say, authors of their own works. They don’t like singular owners of enterprise and property, because it prevents the mob from taking them and then dictating TO the creator, “this is the PEOPLES property now. WE decide, as the most powerful clique, what is true and real with it and what isn’t.”

Because like what happened with Frank Oz of Jim Henson Studios. An activist gay writer declared that Bert and Ernie’s relationship was “canon gay,” because he wrote them as canon gay lovers. There was a great big information cascade as all these affiliated journo companies published articles about how “happy they were to see Sesame Street and the Children’s Television Workshop as representing LGBT people in public!”

Frank Oz spoke up, set the record straight, “These characters were made by me and a friend and were meant to depict a platonic male-male relationship. They aren’t gay but I’m glad you could identify with them.”

That poor old man caught so much shit. They called him a homophobe, said he was, “stealing Bert and Ernie from them,” that he should just shut up and “let people have this.”

No. Fucking no. These people are fucking conspirators, believe wholly in dominating and taking shit over by moving their people into a thing until they have the warm bodies and the institutional authority to crowd out oppositional voices, then have the audacity to SCREEEAAAAAAM bloody murder about the dangers of anybody else organizing to contest them because, “The Nazis are gathering to attack us poor innocent minorities!!” Counting on the ignorance and unsuspecting nature of people to not know such a thing is fake or the totality of the situation.

That’s why they’ll keep this shit on the downlow and call anybody that accuses them of doing shit like this a liar or a tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy theorist. Demanding evidence, in bad faith, knowing there’s little to no way to PROVE any of this UNTIL they’ve done it, and then declaring you to be invalid since you can’t prove the conspiracy.

Because if you can’t prove it with evidence, they’ll simply say you’re a Nazi trying to smear “good people.”

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ethelphantom · 5 years

Text

My Every First Will Be Yours

Would you look at that, I’m back on my bullshit. This time it’s Maribat March. Am I the only one who’s like, way too excited for it? I am? Oh, okay. This one’s for day 1, firsts though, and it took me embarrassingly long to realise that the first day was firsts. Oh well.

Anyway, I think there's going to be something during my Maribat March for everyone, because I'll at least have a lot of Timari and Dickinette, rather much Jasonette, some Daminette, one StephMari (well, the last two are there if I manage to write them in time), and some platonic prompts. There's going to be AUs, angst, fluff, my horrible attempts at humour, big sister Mari, BartAdrien, Mari meeting the Amazons, friends teasing (and making fun of) friends, more angst (what did you expect? It's me we're talking about), and yeah. Also yes, I can tag you to the month (or all Maribat content, but specify, thanks) if you ask me to, either in the comments or via an ask or message. Anything works.

Ao3

This is Maribat -- don’t like, don’t read

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❋❋❋

And this was precisely why she despised getting into fights, especially out of suit. It wasn’t like she couldn’t do it, or that she minded injuries that much, but her knuckles were hurting after she delivered a punch a bit wrong because she’d been cornered and didn’t have enough space to get into a good position.

Besides, there were multiple people that were trying to attack her. Her best guess was harassment or an attempt at kidnapping or rape, but she couldn’t be too sure. Regardless, whatever it was, they were there, she was alone against four or five people, and she was scared, and a scared person too used to having defend herself in a fight against people (or things) bigger than her fought back without really thinking about it more than that. So, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise that once Marinette cleared her way past them and away from the alleyway and someone tried to grab her, her first reaction was to punch them in the face. The person backed off immediately to hold their nose that was now bleeding (and oh god, she’d probably broken their nose, but then again if they were trying to help those other guys, they did deserve it), and there was no way she was risking anything by staying.

The obvious thing to do was to run away, and run she did.

❋❋❋

Oh god. Marinette was ready to murder Dick, no doubts. He’d told her that he had a date organised for her and someone else he knew, assuring her that the person was a good person. While she trusted Dick, meeting the person whose nose she’d broken a few weeks earlier was not a good basis for a date.

Because no, while she hadn’t actually recognised the person sitting in front of her, he had, and he’d just immediately blurted out something along the lines of “oh shit, you’re the girl that punched me in the face a few weeks ago.”

So yeah. That did not go too well.

She ended up finding out that he’d witnessed the fight and tried to help her because she’d been trembling on her feet and looked ready to pass out but she had just freaked out so she'd punched him (miraculously, Tim didn't even blame her for it), Dick was his brother, his name was Tim Wayne, and it took her an embarrassingly long time to realise that yes, Tim was in fact the third son of that Bruce Wayne, and if Dick was his brother, then that meant he too was a Wayne. Tim had simply laughed when she brought that up.

Regardless of how awfully their first meeting had gone, Marinette ended up having a wonderful time. Tim was a wonderful conversationalist, he was intelligent, a good person, and was the CEO of his father’s company already at the age of 19 — had apparently been for quite the while already. They exchanged numbers and decided when they’d go out again, though both agreed they’d prefer a place more quiet and peaceful.

They met only a few days later again, and Dick positively beamed when he heard they got along well.

❋❋❋

Clutching Tim’s dirtied jacket in her hands, Marinette cried and buried her face in Tim’s chest. Tim brought his arms around her and held her tight, rocking her in his embrace as she sobbed. One would have imagined it was Marinette that had gotten hurt.

Tim had been kidnapped. He’d been gone for five weeks and they weren’t able to find him. World’s greatest detectives, her ass — Marinette could hardly like Tim’s family when most of them just let the fact Tim had disappeared be for two weeks until they realised there was someone asking for a ransom, and even then it took them ages to pay said ransom because they were determined to use the following two and half weeks trying to find him on their own, perfectly well aware that there was a chance they’d kill him. They never did find him, the kidnappers were too good, so they were forced to pay the money when they found Marinette freaking out and ready to commit homicide because she was going crazy when no one could find anything and no one seemed to care, either.

But now he was back. He was back, alive, mostly uninjured aside from the few bruises he had gotten, nowhere near the brink of death. And Marinette couldn’t have been happier at that moment, even if she was sobbing helplessly.

Tim cupped her face with one hand and brought it closer to himself before he pressed a kiss on her lips. It took Marinette a second or two to realise what was happening, but when she did just as Tim was backing off, Marinette lunged forwards and claimed his lips again. She clung onto Tim desperately, like someone would take him away from her again if she let go, and so she didn’t. She was not going to risk it. She couldn’t risk it. Not again. She couldn't handle losing Tim twice.

And so she stayed there, letting herself melt against the one she’d realised she loved when he had been taken away, hating the fact it had taken that to happen before she understood the love she felt for him.

And he let her melt against him, holding her tight, both hoping they’d be able to make one another whole again, or at least fit their broken pieces so that they wouldn't break more.

❋❋❋

It might have taken them a few sleepless… days? Perhaps? but eventually they had fallen asleep. Together. They had, in their exhausted and barely functioning states crawled under Bruce’s desk and just… cuddled up there and fallen asleep.

It certainly made an amusing story for Bruce, Dick and Jason to tell later on, because when Bruce had found the two in his office, it had both been so amusing and so adorable that he had had to call his oldest son to look at them (and preferably take a picture of them while he was at it). As it was, Dick had been with Jason at the time so Jason had also tagged along, and they were all amused (especially Jason who had to go outside the office to laugh because even he didn’t dare to wake up the two that were finally sleeping.)

At least he had had the sensibility to get a blanket and two pillows while he was at it, so they managed to make the sleeping place a little more comfortable for their precious, hardworking brother and future sister-in-law.

Tim and Marinette ended up receiving a printed picture of the moment in their mail a few weeks later when they’d mostly forgotten about it all.

❋❋❋

They had fought. For the first time. It felt horrible, but neither Marinette or Tim could bring themselves to go to the other and apologise. No, instead, Marinette had holed up in the guest room she was occupying, and Tim had run from the Manor completely. She had no idea where he was.

It was just that— god, she never realised that bringing up the fact Tim kept disregarding his own health for everyone else, doing WE work, helping his family, trying to make sure everything was as they should, that it would lead to something like this. She had been right, he wasn’t supposed to sacrifice himself for everyone like that, she hated it, she'd seen it happen once before with another person and hated it back then too, and Tim knew this, but then he’d brought up the point that he was doing it because that was the only way he could ever be worth anyone or anything. It had shocked her, because she hadn’t realised this was also a question of self-worth.

But at that moment both their feelings had been heated so neither stopped to think the other’s points and pushed back even harder until it had just exploded and it had led them here.

And Marinette couldn’t do a damn thing about it because she knew Tim had left his phone back as well. She was so scared this was the end.

(It wasn’t. After about a week, Tim had come back (not home, because it wasn't really a home to either of them) from wherever he'd been with his friends, and both of them had apologised, looking like someone had died. Or possibly, like they were scared someone would break and die if they didn't. It took them a lot of time to figure out everything, but they reached a compromise. Later on Dick pointed out that technically Marinette punching Tim was counted as their first fight, but then Marinette had threatened to punch him as well because that didn’t count, and they both knew she hated being reminded about it unless it was Tim himself, and Dick backed off, thankfully.)

❋❋❋

So, in the end, maybe they should have let Barbara come along and help them choose a house because maybe deciding to buy a house based on what kind of coffee machines there were that the owner had said they could give away wasn’t their smartest idea.

Then again, the coffee machines were great and they had not been able to come to a decision otherwise. Tim was used to mansions, huge manors, while Marinette had lived nearly all her life in a relatively small house, above a bakery. It was difficult deciding even the size of the house, let alone anything else. It was a little problematic when the parties of the relationship were a rich ass boy and a baker’s daughter — their standards differed greatly.

Besides, in the house they ended up choosing there were like ten different coffee machines, two studies, a wonderful kitchen Marinette had instantly fell in love with, a huge bath, and it was on a good spot as far from the Arkham Asylum and the Wayne Manor as humanly possible considering neither no longer knew how to leave Gotham.

They were barely 21 at that point and had known one another for 2 years, but that was fine. This was the best they could ever ask for.

And when on the day they finally moved in Marinette got on one knee because she wanted to surprise Tim, they both knew there were so many more years to come.

Yes, they celebrated their engagement by testing every new coffee machine they now had.

❋❋❋

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@freshbark @maribat-march2020 @kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore

#tim x marinette #timari #timinette #maribat #Maribat March #Tim Drake #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #dc #dc x mlb #ml x dc #ml #ethel's writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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